Empress of a Thousand Skies

by Rhoda Belleza

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m coming with you.” Aly still didn’t totally understand why she was helping him, but getting to the safe house in Rhesto felt like the most solid plan he’d had in days. But then it occurred to him: “Navrum City is at the edge of the Rellia Quadrant. Rhesto isn’t a scheduled stop. How the hell are you planning to get off this thing mid-orbit?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You hitched a ride on a zeppelin,” she said, “but have you ever hitched a ride off?”

  FIFTEEN

  RHIANNON

  RHEE and Dahlen had been herded into a holding area by the two Tasinn who caught them, and now they stood among dozens of other loop jumpers waiting to be kicked off at the next stop. Fortunately, the next stop was exactly where Rhee wanted to go.

  “Descending onto Navrum shortly. Please fasten your seat belt and ensure all belongings are secured,” the overhead recording announced.

  The zeppelin shuddered as it burned through the atmosphere. Rhee was hemmed in too tightly to lose her balance. She’d never believed in luck, but this was almost enough to convince her. It was her plan all along to sneak off onto this very planet, where Nero was meeting with governments of Kalusian allies and broadcasting interviews. She’d seen on the public holos how Kalu was being edged into war now that everyone believed her dead. Rhee desperately needed to reach Nero, to use his platform and fame, so she could reveal herself alive on his broadcast. Now that Rhee knew of Seotra’s innocence, she could stalk the inner workings of the council and find out who’d really been behind her family’s betrayal. It was a risk to expose herself, she knew that. But now was the time to be bold.

  A sharp, sudden pressure at the base of her spine made her stumble forward, into a woman in front of her. “Is that necessary?” she asked, twisting around to glare at one of the Tasinn, who only laughed in response.

  It was the third time a member of the royal guard had rammed her with the tip of a metal baton. There were too many people corralled in too small a space, and the Tasinn seemed to make a game of it, jabbing them forward at random, using specialized metal prongs to shock the ones who complained. She overheard two guards gossiping about one of their own losing his badge, but apart from that, Rhee barely understood all the languages and dialects piping up among the prisoners. She didn’t need to speak to them, though, to pick up the fear and tension in their words. The whole thing made Rhee sick. Who was commanding them? Who would keep them in line? Her father would have never stood for such cruelty from his own royal guard.

  A familiar shame snaked around her organs, as if the weight of every responsibility was hers to feel. Was that what being empress meant? And was it honorable to take the throne solely in order to take her revenge?

  Dahlen tried to press closer to her to shield her with his body, but Rhee pushed him away. He’d betrayed her. As soon as the opportunity arose, she would lose him and find Nero.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, without looking at him. He’d killed a man, she reminded herself. Killed him horribly, without mercy, without giving him the chance to defend himself.

  But would she have acted any better?

  She refused to feel guilty for lying to Dahlen, for misleading him about her plans to abandon him—not when he had lied to her first, and ruined her chances of learning the truth from Seotra.

  “Hey. You. Vodhead. No talking.” One of the Tasinn reached out and shocked Dahlen with a Taser, hard. He seized, and Rhee grabbed for him, feeling the jolt that rang through her whole head, like biting down on a metal spoon.

  She recoiled as Dahlen collapsed to the ground. The other jumpers shrieked. Her heart shot up through her throat. Rhee moved to help him, but he pushed her away as if she were the one who’d electrocuted him. It was all so traumatic that she almost didn’t realize she had his ring in her hand. It had slipped off Dahlen’s finger when she’d tried to grab him. When their eyes met, he shook his head, and she felt a rush of doubt. His face had hollowed out in the last week since he had saved her life, and he looked even paler than usual.

  Before he could stand, he was shocked again, by a different guard—a man who’d pushed his way through the crowd, dedicated to enacting this torture. That was twice now and counting. Rhee suspected they kept choosing Dahlen because they knew he wouldn’t cry out. She squeezed her hand around his ring and breathed deeply, in and out, focusing only on her next move, on what was coming. Dahlen would be slower, now, after the electric shocks. Rhee would simply lose him in the crowd. Easy.

  Her stomach was coiled tightly, guilt gripping her insides. She’d taken advantage of his torture.

  The zeppelin touched down with a jolt. Everyone stumbled together. When the doors slid open, the sunlight stung her eyes, and the loop jumpers began pouring out. Rhee leapt down off the zeppelin, hearing the laughter of the guards at her back, taunting the jumpers and threatening worse punishments if they tried to get a free ride again.

  “What’s your problem?” A man’s voice, deep and angry, sounded out behind her. Dahlen must’ve accidentally jostled him, because just two meters to her right she saw a big Derkatzian clutching the front of Dahlen’s tunic, obviously spoiling for a fight. “You forget how to use your eyes, buddy?”

  In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Rhee knew: This was her chance.

  You must be fair, but decisive, her father had said.

  At that very instant, as Dahlen tried to wrench out of the man’s grip, his eyes locked on to Rhee’s. In that moment, she knew he knew—Rhee would abandon him.

  Dahlen tried to lunge for her despite the man holding him. But the man yanked him back, and in a split second, she was free. Elbowing her way out, she heard more yelling erupt behind her, but she didn’t dare glance back.

  She was free. Alone.

  Rhee quickly made her way through the other disoriented jumpers who’d been shoved out of the holding car. The glass roof of the hub’s freestanding grand pavilion had ribbed arches like that of an ancient cathedral. Her hood fell away as she ran, and Rhee quickly yanked it back over her head.

  “Wait,” she heard someone shout, maybe Dahlen, but she kept her head down and pushed forward. Her heart was pounding.

  Honor, loyalty, and bravery, she repeated. Never mind the questions that came after: Who must she be honorable and loyal to? Who must she be brave for?

  The central holo projected a clock high in the pavilion. There were three large archways marking the hub exits, and various holos flashing unfamiliar street signs, advertising specials, news, music. It was a madhouse: Even the central station in Sibu during the Harvest Festival was never this crowded. There must’ve been ten thousand souls, maybe more, from every corner of the galaxy packed into the hub. The walls were made of glass and metal beams, and a dizzying light from the sun shone through them.

  Rhee knew that Dahlen’s size wouldn’t do him any favors in the crowded terminal. She squeezed through a current of people, like a salvion fish going upstream, dodging a family with three slobbering vitus hounds on leashes. The dogs barreled forward, dragging the children who tried to hold them back.

  “It’s Nero,” someone nearby exclaimed, and Rhee’s body reacted before even her mind could, stopping so quickly she nearly fell. Was Nero really here, in the station? The ancestors were on her side.

  She stood on her tiptoes and had her answer—had the answer, too, for why the station was so crowded.

  Nero hustled through the crowd, surrounded by Tasinn, so Rhee could see him only in glimpses—broad shoulders, the forward stride, light hair trimmed and slicked back. He’d always seemed so easygoing, a generous smile trained right at the camera, but today his mouth was set in a grim line as he pushed his way through the crowd. Reporters were practically crawling on top of him as they shouted out questions and jostled to get closer.

  “Is Kalu going to war?”

&n
bsp; “Did they confirm there are UniForce troops on Wraeta?”

  “Can the allies renew the accords of the Urnew Treaty without an empress or regent to sign?”

  Nero must’ve been overwhelmed; Rhee knew the feeling. Still, he carved a path toward the departure platforms. Rhee remembered hearing he wasn’t to leave for another three days; something must have happened to make him change his plans. Something bad.

  For once, she was grateful to be less than twenty hands tall. She slipped through the roiling crowd to follow him, finding the smallest gaps like water flowing into sand.

  “Any response to the Fontisian czar’s accusation?”

  “Has Rhiannon Ta’an’s body been recovered?”

  “Nero has no comment,” a Tasinn called out. Strange, seeing as he always had a comment. Nero loved the cameras and yet he hadn’t said a word or so much as looked at the reporters. As he hurried up the steps toward the first-class car of a waiting craft, Rhee was again struck by how much older he looked. And while he’d always been confident, he even moved differently, with more precision and command.

  A line of Tasinn closed in after him and blocked the reporters desperate to pass. Rhee was caught up in the tide of journalists and pundits and hangers-on as they foamed down toward the very zeppelin she’d disembarked—toward a different entrance altogether, reserved for the first-class passengers.

  There, another Tasinn was checking credentials before ushering the journalists—from all over the galaxy, Rhee noted, if the pair of long-limbed Ngisll sparring with the squid-like Ottos about who had been first in line were any indication—into the press car. With a handheld scanner he reviewed ID cards and admitted or rejected them with a nod or shake of his head. Two muscular brutes in the uniforms of UniForce rookies were on hand to hustle away anyone who didn’t pass muster.

  Rhee’s mouth was dry. She licked her lips. She had to get back on board this zeppelin and speak to Nero before it was too late. This Tasinn was as tall as he was thick, with cool blue eyes that reminded her of Veyron’s. A man you’d go out of your way to avoid. And Rhee was prepared to walk straight up to him and plead for her life. She made a split-second decision: She would power up her cube. She would let him scan it, if she had to, just so she could reach Nero. She wasn’t in danger here, not with Nero so close—they’d had a personal connection all those years ago, and Rhee knew he couldn’t resist the kind of ratings boost she’d give him. He could announce that Princess Rhiannon lived, and stop a war.

  But before she could step up to the Tasinn, one of the UniForce rookies grabbed the back of her tunic.

  “Nice try, girlie.” His breath was hot and foul. “Press only.”

  “Wait!” She struggled to free herself from his grip, but his hands were like steel clamps. “Please—you don’t understand.”

  Even as the UniForce soldier tried to steer her out of the line, however, the Tasinn checking credentials looked up and met her eyes. A quick change of expression skated across his face—had he recognized her? Rhee was hopeful and terrified all at once.

  He lowered his scanner.

  “Hold on,” he said. His voice, she wasn’t surprised, was just like his eyes: all ice. “Bring that one here.”

  Rhee was shoved over to him. For some reason, everyone had quieted: Maybe it was the effect of the Tasinn’s voice, as if the very air had frozen. The man took one of his long, white fingers and flicked back her hood to better see her face. She looked into his blue eyes and again registered the change in his expression. He did know her.

  She’d finally be the princess once again.

  But before she could speak to explain, the Tasinn returned his gaze to his scanner and gestured the next journalist forward.

  “Go on, let her in,” he said casually.

  “You sure, boss? Look at her tunic. You really want a Vodhead in there?” Rhee flinched at the slur; she wasn’t Fontisian but the hate in his voice was meant for her nonetheless. The UniForce rookie obviously meant that because the tunic she wore was Fontisian, she was Fontisian. “Could be a spy or something.”

  The Tasinn sighed exaggeratedly. “This is why you’re paid to shoot and shove things. Do her ears look pointed to you? She isn’t Fontisian. Besides, she’s Marked. Call Fiona and tell her this kid is going in. We’ll want the holos to get a good shot of her with Nero, and the public will eat it up.”

  Rhee finally understood. She looked dirty and exposed, the vermillion mark burning halfway down her face. She hadn’t been recognized. In her excitement to be so close to her announcement, she’d forgotten all about the mark that still disfigured her. But at least the UniForce guard released her and allowed her to pass through the press entrance.

  Rhee entered and saw that they were being funneled back into the first-class cabin, through an ancillary entrance equipped with subtle weapon-detectors. The first-class cabin had been rearranged to look like a press room—there was a raised podium on a velvet dais at one end of the carriage—and the space was already packed. Her cube was offline, and she had no translator to make sense of the dozens of different languages filling the air with a confused chatter, but she picked up bits of conversation here and there—talk of war, the ongoing manhunt for her supposed killer, the finer points of the Urnew Treaty. She yanked her hood back up and picked her way through the aisle, finding a spot against the back wall. All the chairs were filled and neatly divided into sections, arranged in a semicircle around a podium. She scanned the room, eager to have a private moment with Nero before he spoke to the crowd. But he came in abruptly, aides on either side, and marched straight for the podium.

  The room went almost immediately quiet. Rhee could tell which journalists were recording the press conference through their cubes because of the way their eyes dimmed and went unfocused. A camera droid on wheels rolled forward for a tight shot. Rhee would have to wait it out and hope that she could get close to Nero to reveal herself and plan her announcement.

  “Thank you, everyone, for your presence at such a crucial time in the history of our planets. We pray to the ancestors that Regent Seotra will be returned to us safely.” His eyes seemed to flicker in and out of attention as he read prepared comments off his cube. Up close, Nero looked exhausted and overworked, but there was an intensity in his eyes.

  “As you may know, I’ve been vocal about my concerns.” He nodded at several people in the front row and then at the cameras. Rhee only now realized how he wasn’t in his regular diplomacy uniform and instead wore a military-style double-breasted blazer that accentuated his broad shoulders. “I came to see our allies in the hopes that they would help Kalu in defending ourselves.”

  “You want their help to invade, not defend,” a Kalusian woman called out from the back of the room. Heads and cameras swiveled in her direction.

  “Part of defending Kalu means taking back what’s ours,” Nero countered. “Yet the United Planets have repeatedly denied our requests to increase sanctions on Wraeta and its allies. They call our pleas to protect ourselves, to protect our borders and our people, hasty.”

  The woman stepped forward and tried to speak up again, but Nero spoke over her.

  “They have dragged their feet, claiming we don’t yet have all the information we need . . .”

  It was true. Nero didn’t have all the information, but he was motivated by grief and fear. Rhee knew all too well what that was like. He wanted to send a message, and he wanted justice.

  Don’t confuse retaliation with fairness, her mother had said once, gripping Rhee and Joss by the ears. More forgotten memories. Her mother wrenching Joss and Rhee apart after they fought over who knows what. “You don’t resort to violence just because you’re sad or angry . . .”

  Rhee wanted to tell Nero that now.

  “For too long have we ignored the threat that these savages have posed,” Nero continued. Savages? Rhee had never heard him use that kind of langu
age before. “For too long have our immigration policies been lax. We let a Wraetan onto our planet, let him serve in our army and wear our uniform, gave him a place that could’ve belonged to one of your children instead. And he repays us by killing our princess!”

  Rhee was surprised to hear murmurs of agreement. “Dusties,” someone next to her muttered, and she felt a sharp twisting in her stomach. Was there really so much hatred in the universe, so much prejudice, even among people who claimed to be unbiased? Had this always been true? Or had something changed in the week since she was supposedly killed?

  Where are they going? Rhee remembered asking as a kid when she’d seen footage of the Wraetan refugees traveling on the holos. It seemed like they’d walked forever, across an entire season when the flowers bloomed and died again. Yet another organic memory she had to shake away.

  “They’re looking for a new home,” Joss had told her. Rhee picked up a stylus and began to draw all the houses they’d build for them on Kalu. At first, Joss’s pout got a little bigger—like it did when she got sad and might cry—but then she’d just said: “Grow up.”

  The Kalusian woman who’d caused the outburst earlier let out a cry, and even though several people looked in her direction, the cameras didn’t. She was being dragged out by two Tasinn, thrashing and kicking, and no one moved to help her. Not even Rhee. She stood perfectly still, shame burning her face, as the woman was taken.

  “The Rose of the Galaxy is gone,” Nero said once the woman had exited and he had everyone’s focus once more. His face looked like it was carved from marble by a master sculptor. He’d never looked more handsome, or more ruthless. “As a planet, we should rally together and vow, once and for all: Wraeta, and any planet foolish enough to back them, will pay.”

  The energy in the car frightened her: It wasn’t curious. It was charged, electric, angry.

  “What’s the status of the investigation of Alyosha Myraz?” a reporter now called out. “Was he receiving directions?”